Bad Habits, Magic, and Falling in Love
I'm smoking hot ice
I'm paying the price
I'll try it just once
I'll try it just twice
it called out my bluff
I swear it's my vice
I'm drinking love potion
and starting to get critical
they mixed it with the ocean
pretending it was mystical
it feels like lavender sunshine
and forgetting all my fears
until the passage takes our time
and our magic disappears
let's talk like we're not making any sense
making up words like we're about to fall asleep
telling stories through the white picket fence
we'll boil water, throw them in, and let it seep
pour them into my brain and blood after i fall asleep
I'lll do the same for you, drill my thoughts in your brain to keep
i know it's fake and it won't last
and soon we'll fade into the past
but for now, let's swim in this sea of forever peace
for now, let's rest 'till infinite comes to a cease
-ash
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(please like if you read. and it would mean a lot to me if you read.)
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My body and my mind have been sick lately
So my sleep schedule has been fucked.
3am is a normal time to wake.
And just before the sun rises,
I find a couple of dollars
And I put some gas in my tank and I buy a cheap iced coffee,
And I drive and I watch the sun come up
While I listen to music that makes my friends sad.
And as I’m standing at the pump and overdrawing my bank account to put a few dollars of gas in my car,
And my speakers are playing a song about wanting to kill my father with a baseball bat,
I see a man around my age walking towards the gas station,
From out of the shadows of the distant sidewalk
Into the harsh light.
And he’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants and he’s walking alone through the dark to a gas station at 5 in the morning to buy a lighter
And some part of me registers that this is a man who others may feel nervous about him approaching them through the darkness.
But in him I see myself.
And I miss being a meth addict.
And I miss his world. And I miss dragging myself, dirty and beaten, to the nearest gas station at 5 in the morning with loose change in my pocket to buy myself a lighter so that I can smoke my meth pipe.
And I get back in my car that’s still playing a song about wanting to kill my father with a baseball bat.
And I try to think about what it is I’m missing.
And I think of rooms of faces,
Painful, terrible, beautiful faces,
Where every person there understands exactly what it’s like to be at a gas station at 5 in the morning listening to a song about wanting to kill your father with a baseball bat.
And you don’t have to think about it.
You don’t have to talk about it.
They just hand you a pipe
And a lighter
And the pain goes away.
And I drive to pick up my iced coffee
And I don’t feel as bad about the iced coffee as I thought I would.
It’s only two dollars, after all.
And it’s easy to find two dollars, even when you have nothing else.
You can find two dollars in a lot of places.
In your couch.
In old jacket pockets.
In the kindness of a stranger.
And I’ve been hoarding loose change for years.
I keep it in my grandpa’s old ammunition box from the war.
The box where I keep one of the shells from the guns they fired at his and grandma’s funeral.
The box where I keep a dirty rusty nail that someone gave me in rehab.
Someone who didn’t make it, but I did.
The box where I keep the smooth pretty blue stone that the other patients passed around on my last day, that they held close to their hearts as they wished me strength on my journey. As they told me that I was strong and that I was going to make it.
And it’s the box where I keep my loose change
For iced coffee
And meth lighters.
It’s easy to find two dollars.
Your mom will give you two dollars
If you tell her it’s for iced coffee
And not meth lighters.
Your mom will give you two dollars
If you promise it’s not to kill yourself.
And in the drive thru the girl asks me to please wait a moment, she has to refill the coffee.
And I tell her it’s okay, really, no rush.
And she thanks me
And tells me she appreciates me.
And I think about all the jobs I’ve had
Where I had to ask a customer to please wait a moment
So I could do something important
Like refill the coffee
Or use heroin in the bathroom.
And when she hands me my iced coffee I say thank you
And I tell her “I appreciate you too”.
And I see her face fall, briefly,
As she is stunned by my words
Taken aback by this brief, fleeting moment of genuine kindness and connection.
And just as quickly she smiles at me
Truly smiles
And says thank you.
And I hurry and drive away, so she can deal with the rest of the cars in line
Many of which are running late for work
And who will blame her for it.
And I take my drive.
And I watch the sun rise.
And I listen to music that makes my friends sad.
And when I come home
I wash down my antidepressants with what’s left of my iced coffee
And I think about how I don’t miss being a meth addict.
I am a meth addict
Without his pipe.
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To begin to understand an addict; you have to have been one.
You have to carry the burden of that demon for yourself. Feel the weight of it bring you to your knees.
Go to war with yourself everyday; fighting; to just make it one more day.
Some days the demons are so loud they create echos in your head. Screaming for you to just give in. Just do it.
And some days, the demons let you rest. It’s almost like you’re safe, but you know you aren’t.
It takes one bad day, one unguarded moment to give the demons what they want.
To give in.
To feel the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.
Numbness taking over. No more pain.
You are once again an emotionless corpse.
Taken by the darkness,
Until we meet again darling.
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